


algea

by cosmoscrow



Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games)
Genre: Agony, Body Horror, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I have created a monster, Mal gets emotionally vibe checked and never recovers, Post Moonbrooke Spoilers, Spoilers, literally its just gonna hurt, tahts it, thats the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmoscrow/pseuds/cosmoscrow
Summary: [The Algea, the greek spirits of pain and suffering; Achos (grief), Ania (sorrow) and Lupe (pain).]Malroth loses his heart.
Relationships: Builder & Malroth (Dragon Quest Builders 2)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	algea

**Author's Note:**

> hi.
> 
> good luck! i hate it here!
> 
> [MAJOR POST MOONBROOKE SPOILERS!]

* * *

Something ugly, cold and slow crawled beneath his skin. The yawning, endless darkness around him seemed to suck everything out of him, yet still suffocate him with too much, too much and nothing at all. The silence, deafening, he could hear his own heartbeat picking up the longer he stared at Lulu’s empty eyes.

She laid sprawled before his feet, eyes unseeing, her silky rose hair – that Malroth always found so obnoxiously bright, but now wished they would flutter in the wind once more – splayed out like a halo around her head. Blood trailed down her slackened face from her hairline. And Malroth didn’t understand.

“…Lulu?”

No, that couldn’t be Lulu. Lulu was loud, always mouthy, always cheeky and up in his business. Lulu would never lie on the ground like that, too conscious about getting her dress dirty. That couldn’t be Lulu, Malroth told himself, ignoring the cold sweat breaking out on his forehead and he flexed his shaking fingers. The crawling in his skin got worse. He felt himself trembling when he saw Rosie, motionless on the floor, dead eyes staring up into the darkness. Her glasses laid beside her, broken. Babs was there too, pretty tangerine-coloured hair and blood blooming like red roses on her pristine white vest. Everyone was here. Everyone, all of his friends, all of the people from the Isle. They were here and they were dead.

The gigantes club suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand worlds. Malroth smelled liquid copper, a stench so thick it should’ve made him gag, but to his horror, something preened within him. This was a mistake. They shouldn’t be here– why were they here? Someone must be messing with him. He had been fighting skeletons – not his _friends_. He would never– he could _never_ –

Would he?

( _Destroy_.)

Pain pulsed throughout his entire being, thorns digging into his chest and a hammer pounding his head. Ashes filled his lungs and his heart burned like hot coal, smouldering his insides. It was _exhilarating_ – no, no no no, it _hurt_. He dropped his club, hands clawing at his head as he growled.

“Get out of my head, _get out_!” His vision swam and the violent sensation felt like a noose around his neck. Lulu’s glassy eyes still drilled themselves into his head and bile rose in his throat, copper and ashes mixing into a disgusting concoction. He heaved, dry and rough and panic seeped into his chest.

( _Destroy_.)

“ _Shut up_!” Malroth roared, desperation bleeding into his voice. The silence pressed in, clogging up his ears and he could hear his blood rushing, his heart pounding, hyperaware of everything and nothing at the same time. He was losing it. Mind barely tethered, strings of consciousness nothing but bare threads feebly holding on. What was happening, what was _happening_ –

Out of the shadows, a skeleton melted into view, teeth clacking threateningly and sword glinting. Malroth saw red, smoke and ashes filling him, a haze settling over his mind as he bared his teeth. He doesn’t bother with the club and just goes for the monster with bare hands. He won’t let it– _let’s fight, let me destroy_ – he won’t let it hurt his friends– _I’ll destroy anything in my way_ – he’ll just do _something_.

( _Destroy_.)

Aggression settled into his bones like an old friend, his blood singing in joy at his thirst, at his hunger for chaos and unrepentant destruction. His mind felt blank and yet so clear at the same time as he savagely clawed at the skeleton, gripping its bony arms and ripping them out of its sockets. His hand shot forward, gripping the skull and fingers pressing, pressing, pressing, crushing pathetically weak bone until there was nothing left but dust. That’s okay, his friends– _victory, destruction_ – his friends were safe now– _more, more, more, let me crush more, let me kill more, I’m HUNGRY_.

( _Destroy_.)

“Mal…roth?”

The red haze cleared in a snap, like someone had doused him in ice water and then kicked him out into the snow. His breath hitched at the familiar voice and suddenly everything went numb. Malroth’s red eyes widened in horror, when he saw Toola in front of him – there was no skeleton in sight.

“…Toola?” he whispered and it sounded as loud as a thunderclap. She’s looking at him with those big, glittering doe eyes and familiar warmth bloomed in his chest. She came– she came to help? Her eyelids fluttered a little behind her round glasses and a lone red pearl of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.

“ _Toola_?” Malroth wanted to surge forward, but he was frozen in place. More blood spilled over the builder’s lips. She was crying.

“Mal…?” Her voice was weak, _hurt_. She feebly gripped his forearm, the one that had his hand buried into her chest up to his wrist– _what_?

Dread choked him, the invisible noose tightening around his throat. His hands were bare, his nails dark and curled like claws; but since when? He felt his body move, retracting his hand with a sickening squelch it made his stomach roil as she staggered slightly. The stench of blood rose into the air and Malroth wanted to scream at the elation sparking in his veins. This was wrong. This was not real. He’d never– he’d never hurt Toola.

( _Destroy_.)

Her brown eyes shone with terror, until they glazed over, glassy and unseeing. She tilted to the side, falling. And suddenly Malroth could _move_.

He caught her, panic prickling within him as he cradled her in his arms, gathering her into his lap. He held her, as close as possible. She felt _cold_. And it was _so wrong_ , because Toola was _warm_ ; warm brown skin, peach hair like the sunset, dopey little grin and playful giggles, that always sounded so funny.

“Hey, _hey_ ,” he urged gruffly. Something heavy sat lodged in his throat. “Hey, Toola, this isn’t funny! C’mon, wake up, wake up, wake up, _please_!”

He shook her and her head uselessly lolled to the side. Her eyes were dull and Malroth hated it. They were supposed to be all sparkly, always inquisitive, always curious. He shook her again and something shattered in his chest. “Toola, _please_ , I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

(“ _You’re disgusting_.”)

Searing pain cut through him like lightning and a rough, wet sound left his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I was so angry, but– but I never–”

(“ _After this, we’re done_.”)

“ _Fuck_ ,” he swore, the feeling of hot coal inside of him worsening. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, like it was wrapped in barbed wire and doused in oil and then set alight. It _hurt_. “Fuck, Toola, I’m so sorry. It hurts, it hurts so much, Toola, I don’t know– Toola, it _hurts_! I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ , please, don’t do this to me, _please_.”

( _Destroy_.)

Malroth broke apart.

He clung to the builder’s body, tears hot on his cheeks and sobs scratching against the inside of his throat like sand. His chest filled with thorns, heart ripped in two by his own hands. He cried over the waste he had laid over his own happiness, his own friends and the closest thing he had considered his home. Fire raged within him, burning scarlet red, like Toola’s blood sticking to his hands.

(“ _You’re_ ** _disgusting_** _._ ”)

Malroth broke apart and so did his mind. His sobs turned into tentative chuckles. Then laughter. Disbelief, sorrow, anguish, pain, grief, agony. His bloodied hand gripped his face as he laughed, crazed and desperate. This was a joke, right? This was a whole joke orchestrated by the universe and he was the goddamned punchline, not? Fuck, this was too funny. And he had really believed– he really believed–

( _Destroy_.)

Toola was gone. His friends were gone. Everything he had ever loved; all gone, because of him. He destroyed everything, everything that he laid his hands on. It broke, crumbled, sunk into the sea of darkness, just like Toola. Pretty Toola with her warm eyes and warm smile, all gone and dead. Malroth couldn’t stop laughing, despite the tears, despite the pain, the agony. He truly was pathetic.

( _Destroy_.)

A sound escaped his lips, something beyond human, splitting and warping the darkness around him. There was no worth in his life anymore – why keep it?

So, he didn’t.

“ _Welcome back, Master_.”

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to all my friends on the discord; eat dirt, you clowns, i love you
> 
> also special thanks to a certain peanut-sized friend whose vore joke gone too far fic has inspired me >:3c


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